


Garter Slips and Cookie Dough

by PilDoor



Series: Garter Slips and Cookie Dough 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Dean, Chubby Dean, Dean in Lingerie, Dean in Panties, Domestic, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Fuckbuddies, Garter Slips and Cookie Dough Verse, Insecure Dean, M/M, Roommates, Smut, Spanking, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:23:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6569770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PilDoor/pseuds/PilDoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel are best friends and roomies, and Dean is easy where Cas is gorgeous and if you and your best friend aren't at least a little gay then are you really best friends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Garter Slips and Cookie Dough

**Author's Note:**

> This is wayyy too long to be a oneshot, but I don't know where to split it up sooooo.... That's that. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean sits down on the cooler after having retrieved a beer from it. He pulls his shirt from under his gut then taps on the can before opening it.

“You going to the party on Friday?” he looks at Jo, who’s trying to aim the Ping-Pong ball.

“The one at your dorm?” she asks before throwing. Dean watches the ball hit the edge of the solo cup, redirecting it into the beer he knows is there. 

“Mhmm,” he confirms over the sound of Charlie complaining. 

“I don’t know, are you gonna DJ again?” she turns to him then, one arm coming to rest on her hip. 

“Hey! I have a wonderful taste in music! It’s better than that Katy Perry shit all radio stations insist on playing!” he takes a sip of beer. Jo rolls her eyes.

“I don’t think Katy Perry’s come out with a hit in the last… at least three years,” Charlie grins before shooting the Ping-Pong ball, missing not only the solo cups but the table all-together. She has been losing for a while. And Dean poured tequila in half the cups.

“Anyway, you wanna go get pizza before?”

“Hell yeah!”

 

-

 

“Cas, you fucking lightweight, get out of my seat!” Dean laughs at the silly and drunk smile Cas sends him. The smaller man does stand up though, and when Dean sits down on the battered old couch that’s probably been in the dorm for 10,000 years, he plops down in his lap. People don’t question it anymore. Dean wonders if he should question that. He takes a sip of beer instead.

They’d been assigned the same dorm their second year, after a year of druggie/swinger roomies, and they had instantly bonded over cup-a-noodle and ‘grumpy-old-man’ tendencies when it came to loud music on a weeknight. 

They’d been friends from day one, best friends from day two, and they’d requested to be paired up again this year. Now that their third year - second as roomies - was coming to an end, they’d decided to look for an apartment to split over summer. 

“So what do you do when you’re not reading love poems for class? You ever write any?” some redhead flirts on with Cas, as if Dean isn’t sitting right there. 

Dean doesn’t mind, he’s hardly invisible, and besides Cas is always being flirted with. He doesn’t even notice half the time, and for all Dean knows Cas hasn’t gotten laid since that one time they’d done it their sophomore year. They’d been spectacularly drunk _the night before_ and woken up horny. It wasn’t a big deal, and they’d never told anyone.  
Well, Dean had blurted it out to Jo and Charlie once, and maybe he’d told Sam. He wasn't good with secrets.

 

-

 

Dean revels at the shower in the new apartment. He’s so over showering in a communal bathroom, and yeah, he tries not to care what people think, but he was seriously getting sick of being self-conscious. It’s not like he’s fat or anything. He’s just carrying a little extra weight, always has been, and the only way his weight seems to be going is up. But it’s not a big deal. Really. Life’s too fucking short for Sam’s gross juice pulp muffins. Dean likes red meat and pie and beer. All of that. And he’s fine with the extra padding. He just doesn’t like it when people _stare at him in the shower_!

He gets out and scrubs off, humming Enter Sandman as he makes a little skirt out of the towel. Or kilt, he smiles to himself. 

When he’s in his room he sheds the towel, letting it pool around his ankles, and walks towards his closet. But then someone opens the door behind him; it creaks all the way (Dean got the bigger room, since it was also the noisiest).

“Cas?” Dean looks at his roommate and best friend with wide eyes, then to the towel on the floor a few feet from him, and then the closet door, a few feet in the other direction. There is nothing nearby that he can cover himself with!

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says and fucking _walks into the room_ like Dean isn’t just standing there, cock out and belly soft.

“Uh, I didn’t know you were home,” Dean manages, feeling pretty goddamn self-conscious as Cas is wearing like five hundred layers of clothing.

“Well, I was,” the dark-haired man mumbles, finally coming to a stand right in front of Dean. 

Dean can only watch as his friend reaches out to touch his chest, and when his head starts coming closer, Dean can’t help but lean back a little. This isn’t fucking normal behavior. 

Then Cas licks a stray drop of water off Dean’s collarbone, and Dean lets out a fucking whimper. Yeah, they’re just friends, but Dean is just a chubby, thirsty bisexual who wants all the attention he can get – especially from his handsome best friend. He already knows what that fucking tongue can do. 

Though it’s been two years, and Dean thinks he could do with a refreshment of the memory. And he gets one, too, as Castiel doesn’t draw his tongue back in, but licks, bites and kisses his way down Dean’s chest and belly (he has a belly, okay?) to his, by then, already hard cock. He teases it with his tongue before taking it in his mouth and Dean lets out a pathetic moan. God, he’s so weak. Castiel lets go after a few minutes and looks up at Dean through dark eyelashes, “I’m horny, Dean.” 

And, come on, Cas could probably just go down to the fucking Starbucks on the corner or something and ask the first person he saw there, because Cas is fucking _gorgeous_. And Dean can’t help but feel flattered, though he doesn’t know if that’s justified. It’s probably just that Dean is really easy. 

Of course they have sex, Dean lying back down on the bed, Castiel hammering into him after an embarrassingly short while of foreplay. Castiel just reconfirms that he’s the best lay Dean has ever had, and he’s had _a lot_. He’s easy, remember? They come within seconds of each other, Castiel letting go when Dean comes, and of course it isn’t awkward. Dean doesn’t do awkward, and Cas is literally the fucking definition of awkward, but not around Dean. 

So he just rolls off of Dean, but not before kissing him one last time, and smiles as he says, “It’s your turn to make dinner.” 

 

-

 

It’s not a week later that Castiel walks in on him changing again, and the same thing happens.

 

And then it’s just a few days later he straight-up joins Dean in the shower. 

 

The next time Dean can sense Castiel hovering by the bathroom, waiting for Dean to take a shower, and Dean walks past him in the hallway and into the living room. Castiel walks after him. 

“Cas, why don’t we just call this what it is?” Dean asks, back to Cas, as he sits down on the couch. He lifts his T-shirt, making it unfold from under his stomach. 

Castiel comes to sit on the armrest and just raises his eyebrows at Dean. 

The green-eyed man makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, “We’re friends with benefits. Now you don’t have to wait until I fucking shower,” he grins. 

Cas grins too; “Is this okay with you?” he slides down to sit next to Dean. 

“Obviously.”

“Good. Should we set some rules?” Castiel asks, like he this is something he does often. Dean briefly wonders if Cas has had other fuck buddies. He decides that he probably hasn’t.

“Sure. So… no pressure and a lot of honesty,” Dean suggests.

“Yeah. And uh… experimentation?” Cas bends his head down, looking up at Dean. 

He roars with laughter, “Sure, you freak.”

Cas grins. He always gets his way around Dean. But then he sobers, “And uh, are we allowed to, like… date?”

Dean shrugs, “I don’t see why not. Nothing has to change, we just get each other off when we need to.”

“Good. Deal,” Cas extends his hand, smirk on his handsome face. 

Dean laughs again but takes his hand, “Deal!”

 

-

 

They didn’t include a rule about it, but the new change in their relationship remains a secret. Dean thinks it’s because Cas’ _so fucking far_ out of his league that his friend is embarrassed, but that’s just stupid. Probably.

It’s just that… Everybody flirts with Cas. And yeah, it’s not like Dean can’t get a date to save his life or anything, but he doesn’t get flirted with everywhere he goes. 

And he gets indents around his hips from some of his boxers, and he has multiple pairs of jeans that won’t get higher than mid-thigh, but that Dean can’t get rid off, because what if, and Cas has fucking abs.

Dean resolves to just consider himself lucky.

 

-

 

It’s Thursday after lunch and Cas, Benny and Dean are waiting outside the main lecture hall in the humanities wing for Charlie and Jo. “I’m so excited. Dr. Balthazar is one of the most brilliant people in his field,” Benny grins with giddiness. 

“Yes, I am quite excited too. I read his latest article last night. I hope he will talk about it today.” Cas agrees. 

Dean nods. He’s read Dr. Balthazar’s articles, even a few of his books, and he can’t really seem to agree with him. No matter how hard he tries. He knows he’s not as smart as Benny and Cas, he’s just some idiot with a GED and a library card, really. And a scholarship, but that’s because of his background. Benny has a full ride. 

The girls show up at the same time as the guest-professor in question and they all file into the auditorium. 

Dean wants to listen, but it doesn’t seem to be anything new, and Cas is sitting right next to him, stilling reeking of sex. So Dean stares at the powerpoint slides while replaying the way Cas had fucked him over the dinner table just half an hour ago.

But soon the enough the lights spill into the room again and Dean’s ears fill with applause while the renowned professor bows.

“Let’s go talk to him. There are a few matters I’d like to hear his opinion on,” Cas says, pushing Dean’s shoulder to get out.

So they get down there and soon enough it’s their turn to talk and Charlie and Cas practically jizz all over him with excitement and Benny and Jo pay respectful attention to what he says, and Dean… well, he checks out the TA that’s about to set up for the next class. 

He doesn’t miss the “Hey handsome,” Dr. Balthazar greets Cas with. Which is really all sorts of creepy and inappropriate, but Dean can't blame the bastard.

“What did you think?” a British accent seems to direct itself at Dean. 

He looks up to meet the professor’s grey eyes, “Hm?” He catches Charlie trying not to giggle and Cas’ eye roll. 

“What did you think about it?”

Dean shrugs and smiles apologetically, “Sorry man, I’m afraid I lost focus somewhere along the way. It’s not really my area.” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. 

The professor shoots Dean a definitive disdainful look and huffs, “Shame. Your time may have been better spent at the gym, then.”

Dean frowns, arms instantly crossing in front of his body in an act of self-consciousness. His friends all giggle, and it’s not like Dean isn’t the token ‘fat guy’ in the group, so he really can’t take offense at their laughter. But the way that professor, who didn’t know him and who had enough recognition without Dean, had looked down his nose at him made Dean’s face heat in embarrassment. 

“I’m gonna go,” Dean says quietly to Benny, so as not to interrupt the almighty Dr. fucking bitch in his low-cut V-necks as he continues to babble on. He nods and Dean leaves.

 

-

 

Dean resorts to watch an episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and defreeze a pizza in the oven. 

It’s so typical, Dean gets fat-shamed and Cas gets flirted with. What a beautiful dynamic. He chooses to give his attention to melted cheese and the conflict between Lisa and Brandi. 

It’s halfway into his second episode of the afternoon that he hears the telltale rustle of Cas’ keys and then the door opening and closing. It’s not five minutes later that Cas pops his head around the corner, catching Dean’s eye, right as he’s about to bite into his fourth slice of pizza. 

“Wanna bang?” 

Dean puts the pizza down, “Yup!” 

Cas doesn’t mention Dr. Balthazar’s hurtful comment and it’s not like Dean needs someone to wipe his eyes and mend his heart or anything, but he does appreciate the soft and kind way Cas’ hands seem to glide down his body, touching his stomach, sides, chest, thighs and hips in a loving manner. 

He’s kissing Dean’s neck, hands on his waist (love handles, really) when he murmurs, “You are so beautiful.”

Dean blushes, but Cas’ face is moving down to his chest so he’s luckily safe for now, “Don’t say that.” 

And then he’s not so safe, because Cas sits upright then, looking straight at Dean, and he doesn’t look happy either. 

It’s kind of ridiculous: here’s Dean’s best friend, in nothing but his boxers, sitting on Dean’s thigh, hard dick against his hip, and hands _still_ on the fucking love handles. Giving him a petulant scowl. It shouldn’t be hot.

“So it did hurt you?” Cas starts caresses Dean’s sides with his thumbs and Dean looks down at himself. He feels like a fat and little idiot.

“What Balthazar said, I mean.”

Dean grips Cas’ forearms, pulling his hands from his sides, “It’s not like he’s wrong. Can’t really get upset over someone telling me how it is.” 

Cas leans forward, a hand resting on the pillow next to Dean’s head, the other stroking his cheek. He has really blue eyes. Dean makes a note of it every time he looks into them and at this rate he’ll probably fail all his exams.

“Dean, you are not fat.”

“I’m chubby.”

“Yes, and it looks good on you. I wouldn’t have you any other way.” 

And that’s a little ridiculous because it’s not like Dean is Cas’. You know, they’re just friends. Dean looks down at the hills of his stomach now. It’s an inch away from Cas’ toned abs, his treasure trail almost touching the very peak of Dean’s tummy.

“And Dean, I know you think you’re stupid just because we’re all crazy about Balthazar’s theories and you aren’t, but you are not. It probably just means you’re the brightest.”

Dean laughs, he’s getting absurd, “Shut the fuck up.” He would turn them around but he likes having Cas on top and also he’s pretty sure he’d crush the fella if he ever tried to ride him. 

Cas smirks and they make out instead of exploring the stupid chick flick moment. 

 

-

 

Dean is fresh out of the shower, buck-naked and about to put on clothes. He opens his underwear drawer but his hand doesn’t connect with the worn fabric of his boxers. No, it connects with the wooden bottom of the drawer. 

“CAS!” Dean yells. There’s no answer, but Dean can hear the Avengers coming from the living room so he stalks in there. 

“Cas! What the fuck, you were supposed to pick up the laundry!” He’d kind of forgotten that he was naked and when Cas’ eyes travels over his body he just purses his lips and frowns a little more, “it’s your turn!” And Dean knew the fucker had already been out today, for his morning run.

Cas groans and slides further into the couch, “But Dean. I’m watching this movie, remember how _you_ said it was a must-watch? And I think I’m getting a sore throat. And what if I vacuum for the next month?” he looks up at Dean with those _stupid_ blue eyes and Dean has to look away to not give in, but then he makes the mistake of looking at his lips, and then his thighs, and now he’s half hard. 

He groans, “You’re the worst roommate EVER!” he turns to go back to his room. 

“Hey! I’ll suck you off, if you want!”

Dean will definitely take him up on that later.

He gets back to his room and looks for some clothes that’ll hold him over just for the trip to and from the Laundromat. He finds a T-shirt that’s a little too short, exposing his stomach. He’ll just put his jacket on over it. When it comes to bottoms he runs into a problem. There are none. There’s a pair of gym shorts from his high school and Dean just _knows_ , can almost _hear_ the rip of them, if he as much as tries them on.

He stomps back into the living room. “Cas, I don’t have any fucking clothes!” 

Cas takes one look at him in the too short T-shirt and bursts out laughing. Dean pulls self-consciously at the hem. 

“Just wear some of my clothes,” the idiot suggests. 

Dean frowns, trying to cover up his embarrassment with anger, “As if any of you clothes will fucking fit. Can’t you just fucking go? I’m supposed to meet with Sammy.” 

“Just wear my sweatpants, you’ll be fine.” 

Dean relents and goes to his roommate’s room. He finds the sweatpants easily enough, but he kind of hates how snugly they fit him – especially when he remembers how loose they are on Cas. 

So Dean grumbles all the way down to the Laundromat and all the way back, still trying to cover up his embarrassment with anger and irritation. Well, the irritation is real. He’s irritated that Cas won’t just fucking go, and he’s very irritated that Cas is like 3 sizes smaller than him. 

That’s why, when he comes home with the blue plastic IKEA bag filled with clothes, he empties it over Cas, who’s still on the fucking couch, with a “You fold it.” 

And of course Dean ends up taking a seat next to him after he’s changed into real clothes, helping him with the one measly chore. 

He’s trying to figure out how to fold a fucking _cardigan_ , like do you button that shit first or??? When Cas chuckles “What do we have here?” 

Dean looks up to discover the biggest smirk in the world plastered across his friend’s face, and a pair of silky, frilly panties suspended between his hands. 

“These yours? They’re a large,” he teases.

Dean flushes bright red, “Shut the fuck up, Cas, no they’re not.” 

“Maybe you should try them on. I think you’d look downright edible in these,” Cas says in that stupid, sexy bedroom voice of his, and holds them up to Dean. Dean just glares. 

Dean is vacuuming a few days later. Not because Cas didn’t do it, because he just tipped over a bowl of popcorn. He doesn’t hear Cas come in through the front door and he doesn’t hear him sit down on the couch, but he must have done both, because suddenly he hears a gasp behind him. 

He turns his head, still holding on to the neck of the vacuum. 

“What is that?” Cas sits upright and Dean just lifts his eyebrows at him. The dark-haired man gets up and saunters over to Dean, who turns off the vacuum. 

“What’s this you’re wearing?” Cas grins smugly. 

Dean starts to flush, pulling down the hem of his shirt, “N-nothing.” 

“You’re wearing the panties,” Cas keeps smiling like that, putting on hand on Dean’s hip (love handle) and the other down his pants, fondling his dick through the satin of the panties. 

“I-I just wanted to see what it felt like,” Dean gulps. Cas had said he wanted to see him in them, but maybe he’d been joking. Maybe he thought it was hilarious and disgusting the way his ass hung out of them. 

“Hmmm… And what does it feel like?” Cas voice is throaty, more so than usual, which is saying something. He starts kissing Dean’s neck, gently biting an earlobe. 

And if Dean has to be honest, it feels pretty fucking nice. The fabric is soft and stretchy, the lacy hems don’t press into his skin, and the fabric between his cheeks sometimes brushes against his hole, which makes him shudder. It’s not quite a thong, but it’s something like that. Dean doesn’t know this stuff. 

“Uhm…” Dean opts to tell Cas. 

“I want to see,” Cas whispers into his ear, one hand still on Dean’s panty-covered cock, the other starting to unbutton his pants. 

They fall to the floor and Dean steps out of them. Cas leans back to look at him then comes back, hands sliding up his sides, pulling the shirt with them. Dean takes it off. 

Cas takes three steps back then and smiles like a fucking predator, “Oh yeah. You’re really pretty.” 

Dean blushes. His dick is getting really hard and it doesn’t fit in the panties, making them bulge out, gaping at the leg-holes. 

Cas’ eyes are on his bulge and he licks his lips once before looking back into Dean’s eyes.  
“Follow me,” he says, turning towards the bedroom. 

Dean admires the movement of Cas’ back muscles as he sheds his clothes on his way to Dean’s bedroom (it’s closer and he has a bigger bed). 

They make out, Cas’ naked cock smearing precum on the panties. He walks Dean backwards to the bed, making him plop down on it. He pushes himself up, making room for Cas, who crawls after him, shoulders moving like a panther’s, making Dean feel like prey that’s about to get the orgasm of its life. 

Dean doesn’t even think to close his mouth that's gaping, and it would have been pointless anyway because he has to let out a moan, when Cas puts his hot and wet mouth against Dean’s panty-clad cockhead. 

He keeps breathing against it and starts pushing a finger against Dean’s ring of muscle through the fabric at the same time, and the front of the panties are soon soaked in Dean’s precum and Cas’ saliva. 

Then Dean just gets too hard and he can’t handle having his dick bent like that anymore, so he wiggles his hips a little, making the head pop out of the waistline. 

Dean thinks Cas is going to suck on it, but he just thumbs the slit absentmindedly, head going further down. He feels the brush of finger as Cas moves the panties to the side and he almost comes when Cas starts rimming him. 

Dean is a mess and Cas won’t touch his cock, and he won’t let Dean touch it either, he just keeps licking at and fingering his hole, and when Dean is sweaty enough and loud enough for them to get complaints in the morning, Cas finally pulls away, removing his fingers from Dean’s thirsty hole. Dean whimpers. 

“Turn around,” Cas says, “I want to fuck you from behind.” 

So Dean turns around and gets up on all fours, only to have his shoulders pushed back down. He feels a little exposed with his ass in the air like this, but he’s still wearing the panties, and also Cas has just had his tongue in there. He hears the clicking of the lube bottle being opened and Cas squirting some onto his dick. 

Then the panties are pushed to the side and Cas finally starts fucking him. Dean is a mewling, writhing mess, basically humping the sheets in front of him, while at the same time fucking back against Cas, wanting all of his cock. 

Cas’ hands are gripping his hips, a finger in the waistline of the panties and when he lets go with one hand to spank Dean’s ass he comes with a sob, biting his pillow. And Cas follows right behind him, hips stuttering out of his rhythm, and Dean’s hears a groan and the sound of the panties ripping where Cas has a fist wrapped around them, and then Cas collapses onto Dean’s back, licking at a hickey he’d left there earlier. 

Dean chuckles at the ticklish feeling and tips Cas off his back, who continues to roll right off the bed. Dean’s chuckle morphs to a laugh. 

Cas sits up on the floor and tries to scowl, but his smile is a little too wide for it to really work. 

“I can’t believe you just ruined some poor girl’s underwear!” Dean says and grabs Cas’ arm to help him crawl back onto the bed. 

“Wait, what? They really weren’t yours?" 

“What, no!” 

“Well, I’m definitely getting you another pair.” 

And then they kind of snuggle, but like… Friendship-snuggle, you know? 

-

There are times where Dean feels fucking awesome about himself. He’s studying for his master in German literature, he drives a cool car and he’s provided for and raised his nerd little brother right. And he’s hot and can do some pretty wicked things with his tongue – on boys and girl alike. 

And then there are times, like right now, where the barista had snarked that he probably didn’t need a double chocolate muffin with his coffee, and then wrote her number on the side of Cas’ cup. He doesn’t need these things! He’d grabbed Cas butt as they left the café out of spite for the shitty waitress. 

But then Cas of course says, “I think I might call her.” 

Dean just gives him a look, “You’re gonna call someone who wrote her number on the side of your cup? Seriously?” 

“Well, we take historicism in avant-garde literature together. She’s very flirtatious.” 

Dean refrains from pointing out that _everyone_ is flirtatious with him. 

Cas calls the bitchy girl and Dean hurries to phone Charlie the second he finds out when the date is set. 

It’s not like he’s jealous, but he doesn’t want to just hang out by himself while his roomie is out getting some. And what if he brings her back to there place? Yeah, no thanks. Not that Cas doesn’t sound pretty when he comes, but… Yeah, Dean’d rather go without that time. 

So it’s date night and they getting ready to leave at the same time when Dean gets the text: [Getting lucky @ D &D, C u tmrw. :-*] from Charlie. And he briefly wonders how someone gets lucky at D&D, but decides not to question it. 

That’s how he ends up having a Tarantino marathon by himself, eating Baked Alaska straight from the tub in just his underwear (boxers, this time) on a Friday night. He’s not even mad. Embarrassed? Well, it’s not like anyone can see him. 

But then Cas suddenly can. 

He’s only been gone for an hour and Dean thinks to himself that it can’t be healthy that he’s eaten two cup-a-noodles and half a tub of ice cream _in an hour_. 

Before he can feel really ashamed Cas brings him out of his thoughts by slamming the door. Dean can hear him kick off his shoes in the hallway, before coming into the living room. He comes straight to Dean, kissing him and licking into his mouth. Dean sits dumbfounded but very happy, spoon forgotten in his hand. 

“You taste like marshmallow swirl,” Cas says, sprawling in Dean’s lap on top of the duvet Dean had brought from his room. 

Dean sets the spoon and ice cream on the coffee table to make room for him, “You taste like red wine and anger.” 

“Don’t ever make me go on another date,” he groans, arms covering his eyes. 

“It wasn’t my idea.” 

“Okay, then don’t ever _let_ me.” 

Dean bends down to press kisses to his chin, which is the only part of his face that’s not covered by his arm, “You got it, sugar.” 

Cas huffs a laugh at the pet name. 

It isn’t till they’re lying naked, sweaty and blissed-out on the couch that Cas tells Dean why Meg was such a bad date. 

-

“You want Mac and Cheese?” Dean asks around Cas’ open bedroom door. He’s doing homework at his desk. “I even put broccoli in it. I know how you gotta have your fucking fiber.” 

Cas throws his pencil onto his desk (and why wasn’t he just doing this shit on his laptop?) and grins at Dean, “Did you use all those different kinds of cheese?” 

Dean chuckles, “Four kinds.” 

“Hell yeah!” 

So they both take a break from their studies to eat together. They always did these days, though it was a recent thing. Since moving into the apartment that actually had a _kitchen_ , Dean had taken to cooking dinner everyday, sometimes breakfast and/or lunch too on the weekends or when he didn’t have class. But he’d used to just bring Cas a plate in his room. 

“You’re the best cook ever,” Cas downright moans around stringy cheesy pasta. 

Dean smiles into his own bowl, “Well, if I’m still not married when I’m forty, I’ll totally friendship-marry you.” 

“Can we say thirty?” Cas is already serving himself a second bowl. Well… Dean was on his third, but… not relevant. 

He just grins, “You’re just saying that because you want my cooking and cock-sucking skills to yourself.” 

Cas smirks, “Yeah, and?”¨ 

-

Dean hasn’t really given thought to it before. Sure, they bicker over whose turn it is to do the dishes and who has to pick up lube, and they’ve both told each other things they’ve never said out loud before, and when Dean appendicitis all those months ago, Cas had cried and refused to leave his side through it all, and Dean had cried over his body that didn’t seem to fit society’s standards in front of Cas more than once. 

But they were roomies, of course things got to be a little domestic, and they were also best friends so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that they _cared_ about one another, or that they trusted each other. 

But then he gets home from a McDonald’s run one Saturday afternoon and when he hands Cas the McFlurry he’d picked up for him without asking, Cas gets out of his chair and pulls Dean to him in a thank-you kiss. Then he sits back down with his homework and ice cream, back to Dean. And Dean stumbles. 

What the fuck is happening?? 

He spends the rest of the day over thinking and confusing himself and when Cas comes to ask if they can make dinner together, Dean flees their apartment. 

And now he’s sitting across from Charlie in a shitty 24hr diner, drinking coffee even though it’s way too late for that, while she stares and slurps her cherry Slurpee as loud as she can. 

“Alright,” Dean signals for the waitress to refill his cup. 

“Finally!” Charlie yells, tongue red with dye. 

“I need some advice…” 

Charlie stares. Dean looks at the stream of coffee filling his cup. Charlie slurps her Slurpee even louder. The waitress doesn’t even notice. 

“Shoot!” 

“Okay, okay! It’s just… I- uhm.. I have this fuck buddy” 

“WHAT?” she finally puts the giant plastic cup on the table. 

“Yeah, just like a friend with benefits, not a big deal, whatever. But like, we’re starting to… Kiss. You know, without the sexy stuff- and stuff… And like we do things together.” 

“Well, if you’re _friends_ with benefits…” 

“No, but like date things… like there was this restaurant that opened and… uh… _she_ really wanted to go, so we went… and when the new Star Wars came out I took her-“ Dean tries to be sneaky and discreet but he’s terrible at all of that. 

“Didn’t you see that with Cas?” 

“I-uh… Fuck! Don’t tell anyone!” 

Charlie laughs, “I can’t believe I didn’t even see it coming. You know people are betting money on when you two will go out with each other.” 

Dean groans and slams his head into the table. There’s a napkin stuck to his forehead when his sits back up. Charlie picks it off, “If you get together before Cas’ birthday, I’ll split the money with you.” 

“WHAT! You bet on us too?!” 

She gives him that look she tends to give him. Poor, clueless Dean. 

\- 

They find themselves at another new restaurant in town. It was supposed to have student-friendly prices and gluten-free alternatives to everything, and Dean didn’t care, but Cas did. Mostly because of the salad buffet. Dean scowled at it and ordered the falafel. 

So they’re sitting there, Cas eating fries off Dean’s plate, and they keep flirting and Dean’s foot is so far up Cas’ leg they’d probably get kicked out if someone was to lift the tablecloth. 

He feels his panties (that Cas had gotten him) crawl a little further up his ass, but it’s not uncomfortable yet. 

“Thanks for coming with me, Dean. I know it isn’t quite… Up to your tastes,” Cas smiles sweetly, looking up through his eyelashes. 

“Sure, Cas. Anything for you,” he mumbles, mouth full of spiced fries. 

“You’re the best, you know.” 

That makes Dean smile for real. And when Cas takes his hand across the table, it makes him smile even more for real. But then he has to go and get a rational thought and he can’t keep himself from bringing it up this time. So he tones down the smile and squeezes Cas hand. 

“Hey Cas… how about next time we do this, we just call it what it is?” 

“What?” he looks surprised, and slightly skeptically at Dean, “you mean a date?” 

Dean nods, “Everybody already thinks we’re a couple” 

“Everybody who? No one thinks that. No one knows we’re sleeping together.” 

“Well… Not ‘no one’…” Dean blushes slightly. 

Cas stares at him. 

“I- Charlie figured it out, okay? I accidentally said something.” 

“’Accidentally’” Cas mocks under his breath and Dean instantly feels a little guilty. “Well, we can trust Charlie.” 

“Yeah, but… We’re already pretty much acting like we’re in a relationship, you know…” 

“… Are you in love with me?” Cas asks skeptically. 

And trying really hard to ignore the pounding in his chest, Dean shrugs, “Well, I… Yeah.” 

Before Dean can even really process anything, he sees Cas hauling ass out of the café, and his heartbeat can’t be ignored anymore, he can practically feel it in his eyeballs. 

He goes straight to Charlie’s studio apartment, but Jo is there so he can’t talk about what is bothering him. He thinks it’s better to wait and see what will happen with him and Cas – will they stay friends?? – Before he starts including other people in his stupid drama. 

He plays Mario Kart against Jo until he gets too depressed and takes refuge on the couch instead. He’s lying face down into a hentai-motive pillow that Charlie keeps as a joke until Jo declines the offer of pizza and leaves. 

“What happened?” Charlie sits down on Dean’s butt. He turns his head away from the cushion to kind of look at her. 

“I told Cas.” 

“And? Did he ask you to elope with him and you’re not ready to leave friends and family like that?” she says, sounding hopeful even though she knows that’s not what happened. 

"He didn’t say anything. He just left.” 

He feels Charlie’s hand rubbing soothing circles into his shoulders, which is too comfortable, apparently, because he starts crying finally. 

“I’m sorry, sweetie. He’ll come around,” Charlie slides off Dean as he sits up. He sobs into the crude pillow instead of saying anything. 

“You’ll crash here, okay? I’ll go buy ice cream and get your toothbrush, and then we’ll marathon Star Wars, okay?” 

Dean turns his head, though it’s still squished against the pillow, and he nods. 

When Charlie leaves with a promise of _not_ buying fro-yo like she had the last time and being back soon, Dean gets into her shower. He lets the hot water beat down on his back, and he slightly enjoys the mango dream scent of Charlie’s shower gel before letting thoughts consume him. 

He seriously fucked up this time. He should have thought it through, and not have said a damn thing. He hasn’t just lost a prospective date; he’s lost the best sex he’s ever had and the _best_ friend anyone could ever ask for. And then all his other friends will probably choose Cas over him and Dean will be all alone and have to live in his little brother’s basement for the rest of his life. He has one momentary illusion of grandeur that maybe Cas had left to get him flowers or something. But then he remembers who Cas is as a person and who he himself is as a person and bursts into tears again. At least he’s in the shower so no one has to know. 

“Are you crying in the shower?” Charlie muffled voice travels through the closed door, and Dean swears. 

“Did he say anything?” Dean wants to know, when the opening crawl of Episode IV starts. His mouth is full of cookie dough ice cream. 

“He wasn’t there. I’m sorry.” 

He’s probably out on a date with someone who has a normal BMI – maybe even abs – and who’s not too stupid to get Dr. Balthazar’s theories. Possibly Balthazar himself. Dean wonders if he can drown himself in the 2 liter Dr. Pepper Charlie bought. 

-

Dean doesn’t see much of Cas the next week and doesn’t talk to him much either, except for the occasional “You want dinner? I made *blank*” and Cas’ responsive “No.” 

But at least he’s home during dinner time, so he’s not out on a bunch of dates. Dean doesn’t know why he would be anyway, since it’d never really been his scene. But he was so _hot_! And smart and kind and funny, and Dean would never get to experience any of that again. Maybe he should just be grateful for the relationship and time Cas had already gifted him. Dean was being greedy, really. 

Someone like _Cas_ shouldn’t be spending all their time on someone like _Dean_. With his slightly co-dependent relationship with his brother, his, honestly, fanaticism in regards to LARPing, and his extra 30 pounds. Yeah, Cas was better off without the mess that was Dean. 

Then Cas is gone all of Friday and Saturday night, only dropping home shortly, likely for a change of clothes, and Dean spends all his money on takeout and all his energy on crying. Cas is probably out having sex. He met someone else and he’s gonna move in with them because his current roommate is a crazy mess with who lets his emotions run wild. He falls asleep, probably mid-sob, on the couch on Saturday. 

He’s still lying there on Sunday and Cas coming home is what wakes him up. He comes into the living room where Dean is surrounded by Chinese takeout boxes and empty bags of Cheetos, and he is sentient enough to be embarrassed. 

Cas looks briefly at the junk food war zone, but he doesn’t even look disgusted. Or surprised, for that matter. Then he looks at Dean. Dean knows his mouth is open, but he’s scared Cas will tell him to go, to move out. 

“We need to talk,” Cas rasps, voice almost hoarse. 

Dean nods, “Yeah.” 

And even though it was Cas who said it, once he sits down on the other end of the couch, it’s Dean who word vomits all over him. 

“I’m sorry, Cas. I’m really sorry; I-I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. And I completely understand if you- If you never want to talk to me again, but I _hope_ we can fix this! We can do whatever you want, whether it be friends – with benefits or not, or more or less or nothing. It’s up to you. If you want me to move, I will, of course, I’ll do whatever you need me to. I just hope I don’t have to lose you, because you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I know I don’t deserve a friend like you, ‘cause I’m just a sensitive, fat fuck who doesn’t know boundaries and I-“ 

“Shut up, Dean!” Cas eyes flash with anger and annoyance and Dean looks down into his hands. 

“I hate when you talk this way about yourself. You always exaggerate so fu-… Ugh, whatever! It doesn’t matter.” Cas pinches the bridge of his nose, seemingly trying to collect his thoughts. 

“I hate when you put yourself down. And I hate myself for being the reason you’re putting yourself down now, and probably has been all week.” 

Dean pulls his knees towards him but his stomach gets in the way so he crosses them instead. He just looks at Cas. 

“Truth is… I feel fucking honored that you choose to spend your time with me. And I know you think I’m way too good for you, but I’m not. I’m not even close. I’m selfish where you are selfless, I’m pissy and reserved and you are open and warm and so fucking friendly, all the time, to everyone. You’re loyal to a fault, and you’re the biggest nerd I know, but you are also the smartest man I’ve ever met. And yeah, your eating habits are questionable and you laugh at your own terrible jokes, but honestly… I’ve come to love even that. I love everything about you. And I’m sorry I ran off like that but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think – I _don’t_ think I deserve you, but if you’ll still have me… I’m yours.” 

Dean keeps staring at his wonderful, beautiful idiot of a best friend. 

“Dean, please say something.” 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Dean laughs as he gets up on his knees and leans forward to push Cas into the armrest, kissing him in the most fantastic way. Then he remembers that he probably has Cheeto morning breath and he flies away from Cas as fast as he’d attacked him. “Uhm, okay, I love you, like seriously. Uh, we’ll talk or-or bang, just hold on a second,” he holds up a finger as he scrambles off the couch, practically running to the bathroom to clean up the mess that is himself. 

He comes back into an empty living room after having brushed his teeth and washed his face and armpits. And briefly wonders if the whole thing was a carb-induced dream, but then Cas comes back from the hallway, clearly hiding something behind his back. 

“What?” Dean squints at the Cheshire grin on his… friend’s? Boyfriend’s???? face. 

“I got you a present. Just in case you were really mad at me.” What an idiot. 

“What is it?” Dean keeps looking at Cas with skepticism. 

Cas hands him a kind of flat, rectangular box. It’s pastel pink and has a ribbon around it. 

“Sorry, they don’t really have men’s stores for this,” Cas tries to smirk confidently but the blush coloring his cheeks ruins it for him. Dean cannot refrain from leaning in to kiss his lips, just softly. 

He opens the box and he already knew it was lingerie, but he didn’t know it would be lingerie _this nice_. 

He doesn’t have time to study it, because then Cas is ushering him to the bathroom, “Go try it on. I’ll wait in the bedroom,” and he has that damn Cheshire grin back on his face and Dean is already half hard. 

He’s blushing the whole time it takes for him to put it on, constantly expecting something to bite into his fat, giving him a muffin top, or just downright ripping. But everything fits him perfectly. He feels a little ridiculous but very sexy when he goes into the bedroom, and he bites his lip and blushes when he sees Cas lying on his bed naked, his eyes darkening with desire the moment he lays them on Dean. 

Dean is wearing a pair of panties, the model similar to the first pair they’d accidentally stolen all that time ago. His ass is out, but it’s not exactly a thong. They’re grey and soft and covered in soft pink lace, and so is the garter resting around his hips. Soft pink clasps reach down his thighs, holding up black stockings (that Dean, frankly, was surprised and grateful he hadn’t ripped). 

“God. You’re so fucking beautiful,” Cas sighs and they crawl towards each other on the bed. 

“You’re gonna fuck me in this?” Dean doesn’t know why he whimpers that out more than anything, but it probably has a lot to do with the look Cas is giving him. 

“Oh yeah, baby, I’m gonna fuck you in that.” 

It’s not very sweet, considering they’ve just confessed their love for each other and all, but it’s rough and sweaty and Dean _needs_ , okay? So he’s pushing back his hips, meeting Cas thrust for thrust, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this loud. And he can feel Cas’ fingers over the garter belt, pulling lightly on the shaping wires, and then his fingers follow the elastic bond, caressing Dean’s thigh playfully along the way, and he tips his head up, panting. 

His cock is still partially caught in the panties, head peeking out at the waistline, and the ruffle of frilly fabric against his head is doing wonders for him. He’ll definitely be hoarse tomorrow. 

“Fuck, Dean, fuck, can’t believe how sexy you are like this,” Cas groans above him and Dean is surprised he even catches it, with the blood rushing in his ears and Cas’ slurring like he’s drunk. Love drunk. Dean would blush if he weren’t already red from effort and arousal. 

Cas is fucking right against his prostate and Dean really wants to come, shaking on edge, and when he moans his wish to Cas, he just slips right out of Dean, resting his dripping, rock-hard cock between Dean’s butt cheeks. 

Dean looks over his shoulder at Cas, “Hey, what are you-AH!” Cas slaps his ass and the sting paired with Cas’ hand running soothingly over the area makes Dean bite into his pillow, groaning in frustration. 

Cas does it again, keeps doing it, caressing each spot he slaps afterwards and Dean. Is. Growling. 

“You’re so hot, fuck. Can’t believe how lucky I am,” Cas’ voice isn’t wrecked anymore, but it’s low with stimulation. “You love this, don’t you?” he asks and Dean can only whimper. 

With the next slap Cas inserts his dick again and when he uses his other hand to pull the fabric of the panties tight around Dean’s dick, Dean comes, semen sputtering onto the bed sheets and down his stockings. 

“Fuck yeah, baby, you’re so good,” Cas growls and he holds Dean’s head down while he fucks him for another minute until he comes with a curse across his lips. 

Dean doesn’t think that kind of sex warrants carefully whispered confessions of love long into the night, but he’s wrong. They stay between the sheets, Dean back in men’s underwear – and Castiel too for that matter – and they nap for a few hours, but then they wake up and they make love, like actually fucking soft and gentle, sexy love, and then they talk. But most of their conversation is just “I love you” over and over. 


End file.
